


World Falls Away

by toomanyships-sendhelp (ValarMorghulis508), ValarMorghulis508



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValarMorghulis508/pseuds/toomanyships-sendhelp, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValarMorghulis508/pseuds/ValarMorghulis508
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John saves Sherlock from the melt down during the Hound of Baskerville</p><p>incomplete. My first fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Falls Away

He was worried.

He was always worried about Sherlock but this was different. He had never seen him so unsure of himself. Sherlock may be the most brilliant and the most stupid git he'd ever met, but he always was in control. They could be chasing down serial killers or at a stand off with a mad man, but Sherlock was never affected. Not to this extent. 

He sat by the roaring open fire, glancing quickly at John to acknowledge his presence then returning to stare into the flames, lost in thought. His long fingers pressed against each other and held to his lips as he stared into it. The crackling fire reflected in Sherlocks eyes like red and blue flame, intertwined. Dancing wild and untamed as if dancing through galaxies. John had found himself unintentionally or inadvertently staring at Sherlocks eyes before as he would sit and silently deduced some case, but he had simply ruled it to his heterochromia. Given that he was a doctor he had never actually seen anyone with the anomaly before. It wasn't particularly rare, but he had never had the opportunity to examine it first hand. The way it marked the perfect blue of Sherlocks eyes had been hypnotic to John. He would sit there and watch as Sherlock, oblivious to anything around him, delved into his mind palace and sifted through data, those eyes darting back and forth placing each piece of information into its appropriate location, matching some with others and forming final conclusions. 

There had been no such spark in them tonight. As he stared into the fire, his face twisted with self-loathing and John could almost pinpoint the issue before Sherlock even admitted it. "Look at me. I'm afraid John. Afraid".. This weekend had messed with everyones heads. Baskerville was a place of secrets and impossibilities. Sherlock was determined to come to the bottom of it, as always. This was well above a 6 after all. But as John put down his notebook he knew something was different. Something was wrong.

He had doubt.

Sherlock had never doubted anything before. He was completely sure of his deductions, and if something was missing he would simply gather more data until he has his conclusion, however improbable, was the correct one. 

Sherlock reached out his hand and it started to shake. "... body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. The grit on the lens. The fly in the ointment."

John watched on, helplessly. Maybe if he made light of the situation? "Yeah alright, Spock.. " he lowered his voice and guided Sherlocks hand back down to the armrest ".. just take it easy. You've been pretty wired lately, you know you have."

'Me? .. Theres nothing wrong with me" He snapped, ripping his arm away from Johns gentle touch. 

He reaches out again, "Sherlock.."

"THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! Do you understand?" John could hear the panic in his voice, his hyperventilating. He was about to cross the line into a panic attack and John, for once in his medical career, couldn't help his patient. Couldn't protect his detective. "You want me to prove it yes?" He pulled in a deep breath to try and steady himself but John could see it wasn't helping.

It tore at John. Tore at his heart. He could feel the pain it was causing Sherlock and wanted it to stop. Stop the deductions and the desperateness and the quiver in his voice. He seemed lost though. Rambling about this poor mother and son and his jumper and her dog and his desperation for money and John couldn't stand it. Couldn't take that Sherlock felt the need to prove to John that his mind hadn't a fault. That he could still pick apart the two eating dinner and why he was here and why she was here and why this and why that and he wasn't even stopping for air. Mind, mouth and deductions spilling out at a million miles an hour, answering questions John hadn't even asked. Almost desperate now to prove himself to John.

And then he couldn't take it anymore

He didn't know why. He didn't know how he got there but Sherlocks face was in his hands and his lips were on his. In half a heartbeat, John had leapt from his chair to kneel in front of his detective to try to bring a silence to that incredible mind. To calm the hurricane of facts and numbers burning through Sherlock and to, somehow, reassure him at the same time. 

Sherlock hadn't said anything. He didn't pull back. Barely seemed to react at all. John had penetrated thought he swirling mass of information inside him and brought the world pouring back. Brought the small, rustic inn back to him and the world with it until all he could think was 'John'.

John felt himself become overwhelmed with a hunger and confusion all at once. He gently pulled back and stared into those perfect blue eyes, so filled with everything and nothing. John lowered his hands from Sherlocks impossible cheekbones to rest on the armchair and shifted a glance around the room. People still eating, chatting, flirting and not even paying a second notice to the detective and the doctor by the fireplace. He looked back to Sherlock

"Not good?" 

"No it's .. fine" Sherlock replied, with the faintest curve of a smile and a half raised eyebrow. 

Both men sat still for a full moment. Sherlock leant eagerly forward in the armchair and John at his feet just staring into each other and, possibly, both trying to form their own deductions. Sherlock fascinated and already clearly trying to collect as much data as he could, running those perfect eyes all over John and John looking back to him, but battling himself inside of what the hell had just happened. He had rarely been one for spontaneous acts of public affection and that was with women he was dating! Let alone instigating them. Let alone a man, and not only a man but the worlds only consulting detective. The world's only Sherlock Holmes. 

He shook himself out of whatever stasis he had himself in and sat back up in his seat beside Sherlock, Sherlock watching his every move and my god, had the man ever been so silent? He would, in fact, go days without talking as he had initially threatened when they first met but he had never been at the receiving end of those piercing and calculating eyes during the silence. It was maddening.

"Did you know that was going to happen?" Sherlock eventually asked.

After a silence that may have been a second or two too long, John let out a sigh that he hadn't realised he'd been holding onto "No not really..." 

The white noise of the inn came flooding back into focus. The crackle of the fireplace, the chatter of guests at nearby tables, the chinking of glasses and cutlery but all John could focus on was Sherlock and the memory of his lips on his own. Why had that felt so good? He didn't think he could feel this way for a man. What was he feeling? He only meant to shut him up. To try and calm him before he collapsed into a panic attack. But really, wasn't there other ways to do it? Slap him, throw water on him, literally anything else so why had he decided to kiss him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you like, come find me at http://toomanyships-sendhelp.tumblr.com/ for Johnlock and Destiel trash <3


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